I Must Not Keep Secrets
by thosedarndursleys
Summary: Over the winter holidays during his 5th year, Harry has an unplanned discussion with a concerned Remus. No slash.


**This is a response to Savita's Parental Figure Challenge. I really enjoyed writing this—thanks, Savita! (The events will be written in my closing Author's Note).**

Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.

I Must Not Keep Secrets

Harry Potter was sitting on the couch in 12 Grimmauld Place, his head leaning back and his eyes closed. He could hear the Weasleys in the kitchen, talking about Mr. Weasley and his recovery; comforting each other in ways that only a family can do.

Harry had been beyond relieved to hear that Mr. Weasley was going to be ok, and after hearing the news, had slipped out of the room. He knew Ron and his family would need some space to work through everything, and the last thing he wanted was to intrude.

It wasn't that he felt unwelcome. He knew he wouldn't necessarily be in the way if he stayed with the coping family, but between his aching hand, tired eyes, and guilt-ridden stomach, he just couldn't put on a happy face and be the encouragement he knew that he should be.

He had seen the attack on Mr. Weasley. No, not only seen it, but _felt_ it. In his dream, it had been Harry that attacked the man—his best mate's dad. Harry knew it wasn't really him that had been in control, and it wasn't as if he had actually been there, but that didn't remove the sick feeling in his gut. He felt terrible and just wanted to go to bed; just wanted everything to stop for a while.

A hand on his shoulder broke Harry from his thoughts and he sat up abruptly, startled. Remus was sitting next to him on the couch, concern in his eyes. Harry offered him a small smile, but the werewolf wasn't convinced.

"Are you all right there, Harry?" Remus removed his hand from the boy's shoulder, but didn't move from his place next to him.

"Yeah, 'M fine," Harry rubbed his eyes with his left hand, which reminded him to discretely pull down the sleeve of his jumper with his right. "Just tired. What about you? You had a long night as well."

"I did," Remus relaxed back into the sofa a bit. "But I didn't have memories of a traumatic dream to keep me on edge all night on top of all of the worrying. It's ok to not be all right, you know." He looked sideways at the teenager, trying to convey understanding without pushing him too far.

"I know," Harry gave the man a smile, appreciating his worry, but trying to assuage it. "I just need a good night's sleep, I th—"

"—All right, who wants tea?" Sirius called from the kitchen, relief and the joy of having a full house evident on his face.

"I'll have some, Padfoot," Remus said amiably.

Harry requested some as well and began to sit up, planning to make his way into the kitchen to help his godfather. In his hurry to get up, however, he unknowingly lost his grip on his right sleeve, which slid up to reveal the scars on his hand.

"Harry," Remus gasped, taking hold of the boy's wrist. "What happened?" He looked up at the hand's owner and saw panic in his eyes. Harry tried to pull away, but Remus refused to let go.

"It's nothing, Remus. Don't worry about it," He futilely tugged his hand back once more. "I'm going to help Sirius."

"No, Harry," Remus' voice adopted a stern tone that Harry hadn't heard since his third year at Hogwarts, when Remus had been his teacher. Since then, through letters and Order meetings, he had become more of a father figure to Harry than a professor, which no doubt strengthened his resolve to find the origin of the boy's new scars. "Tell me what happened." The man's eyes were narrowed and hard, leaving Harry no room to be uncompliant.

"Remus—" Harry began in his most placating tone. He had settled onto the edge of the couch, hoping to get away as soon as possible.

"_No,_ Harry," Remus' voice was now as hard as his eyes, which Harry had begun to avoid by studying the frayed carpet beneath his trainers.

His effort was quickly dashed, however, when Remus took hold of Harry's chin and slowly brought it up, forcing him to make eye contact.

"How did this happen?"

Harry let out a small sigh and looked toward the doorway, making sure it was still empty.

"I was given detention a few times this term. I had to write lines," He looked Remus in the eye again, trying to portray confidence; hoping to convince him to drop the subject—and his hand.

No such luck.

Remus tightened his hold on Harry's wrist and studied the scarred words once more.

"You used a Blood Quill?"

Harry dropped his eyes to the pattern on the couch.

Crap.

"_Harry_," Remus didn't need to take hold of the boy's chin this time. His tone of voice did the work for him.

"Yeah—but it's not a big deal, Remus. I'm fine."  
"Who did this to you?"

Anger was growing inside the werewolf. Between the scars on Harry's hand, the unknown story behind them, and Harry's nonchalance over the matter, he could feel his temper rising.

"It doesn't matter—"

"It does to me, and I'm certain it will to Sirius—"

"No! No, Remus, it's fine. Don't tell Sirius," Harry pleaded. This was _not_ going the way he had hoped it would.

"Who did this to you?" The wrist was gripped tightly in Remus' hand now, but Harry was too upset over the unfairness of it all to feel the discomfort.

"Umbridge, ok? She's a right hag who thinks Cedric died in a terrible accident. She gave me detention for saying Voldemort was back," His voice was rising, but Harry didn't care. His anger toward Umbridge was fueling the frustration he felt at Remus. "Just drop it."

He succeeded in pulling his hand from Remus' grasp and made to flee from the room, but the steel in the man's voice brought Harry to a stop before he reached the threshold.

"Harry James, get back here," His voice was quiet; dangerous. The defiance within Harry was overtaken by his self-preservation, and he reluctantly walked back to the now-standing werewolf.

"I understand that this is an upsetting topic for you, but you may not walk away from me at a time like this," His voice was low, but Harry—standing quite near to him—had no problem hearing it. The intensity behind his words made Harry study the man's shoes, rather than his face. "And especially not in that manner. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Sir," A lump had appeared in Harry's throat. He hadn't meant to upset the man—he just didn't want to have this conversation.

Remus gently took hold of Harry's scarred hand once more, running his thumb over the words.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Harry?"

Harry pulled his hand away again, his anger quickly resurfacing.

"Because I'm sick of being so damn needy all of the time. The Order has enough to worry about without having to keep an eye on my detentions."

"Harry, you're not—"

"I am, Remus!" Harry was full-fledged shouting now, and he quickly lowered his voice; he didn't want to draw any more attention—especially not from his godfather, who was just in the other room. "I can handle this on my own. Just leave it alone. Please."

"Harry, _this_," Remus held up Harry's hand. "Isn't handling it. It's sitting by and letting it happen. It's putting up with it," He took a minute to guide Harry's chin upward again, forcing green eyes to meet amber. "And you are _not_ needy. You're fifteen. Someone needs to be taking care of you."

Harry tried to free his chin from Remus' hand, but knew it was futile. "I can take care of myself, Remus."

"Fine then," Remus' words sounded harsh, but his eyes were pleading. He dropped his hands to Harry's shoulders and his voice grew gentler. "But Sirius and I _need_ to take care of you," At seeing the scrunched-up, confused look on the boy's face, he continued. "We've just gotten you back, Harry. Let us at least care for you the way we should have always been able to."

Harry looked down at his hand, tracing the words with his eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

He expected his former professor to take hold of his chin again, but was surprised when the man palmed the back of his neck and pulled him into a hug.

"No more secrets," Remus said gruffly into the boy's dark hair.

Harry relaxed into the unexpected embrace and buried his face into Remus' chest.

"No more secrets," he agreed.

**A/N: The only event that I chose for this story was #2: An Argument. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! If you have the time, please leave me a review, to let me know how I can better my next story :)**


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